


hunger leading the hungry

by creampuffs



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:50:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creampuffs/pseuds/creampuffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was inevitable. Of course it was. How long were you expected to stave off the itch, temper down that simmering need, how long was she expecting to remain untouched from all this? Nature is nature, and she'd be damned to not run her course in due time. </p><p>Or in which Kanaya Maryam is forced to concede to her needs, as dirty, shameful, and awkward as they may be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hunger leading the hungry

**Author's Note:**

> because I miss Rose and Kanaya in a way I didn't expect and my girlfriend in a way I knew I would. obviously the best solution is plotless smut. enjoy!

You wondered how long it would take. 

You had counted the days, as accurately as you could anyway from a slow-burning meteor hurling through space, but you realize now that no amount of calculation in the entire galaxy could have prepared you for just how intense this feeling is.

It fills you. 

Starting from the small curve of your toes, snaking up to the pit of your belly, and setting fire to the flat expanse of your chest. It was inevitable. Of course it was. How long were you expected to stave off the itch, temper down that simmering need, how long was _she_ expecting to remain untouched from all this? Nature is nature, and she'd be damned to not run her course in due time.

Rose has no idea what the battlefield in your head looks like. In fact, she seems barely aware of your presence at all, fingers tight around a mug full of cold coffee and buried nose deep into a dusty text. It's massive, almost the size of her entire head, and you don't know if you're grateful or frustrated that she hasn't noticed you (or the harried state you're in.) 

You had thought you could last a few more days. Just a couple, hopefully enough to figure out an adequate and acceptable way to request this one favor of Rose. She had mentioned it in passing once or twice, but the paranoia and hesitance in you had interpreted it as teasing, as one joke of many made in passing. After all, it was kind of difficult to offer yourself up in all seriousness on a (possibly literal) silver platter as a three-course meal for your girlfriends unique dietary needs. 

You lick your lips. 

The soft hairs on the back of her neck are mocking you. You know its unreasonable to think it, but think it you do, and you glare fervently at them as that inescapable thrumming in your chest grows. You can almost taste the thin film of blood that would leak from her body but as it is currently, you really have no idea what humans taste like. You can only imagine. And after two to three weeks of doing exactly that, you are getting a little tired of having to settle for anything less than reality. Maybe two or three weeks ago, past you would have been outraged by such a thoughtless remark. How dare you ignore Rose's position in all this? Then again, past you didn't spend the last few nights curled up from stomach pangs that hurt deep in a way you've never experienced before. It's funny, and a little frightening, what a little dose of desperation does to a rational mind. 

"Can I help you, Kanaya?" 

Interrupted from your train of thought, you blink as Rose finally lifts her head from the book. Her gaze meets yours and again, like always, you are struck by all the small details of her face, her alignment, her silhouette, and all the parts that make Rose so beautifully whole that you almost forget your hunger. 

Almost.

Racking your brain for a frantic six seconds, you piece together what you think might be a passable attempt at smalltalk because you still need some time to put together your more formal request. She doesn't buy it. Your rather weak attempt at asking her about her reading goes unheard, and she tilts her head at you in curiosity. The flush on your face must be apparent then. You can't exactly help it. The need to feed and the smell you've been noticing from her since two days ago has been slowly aiding in your climb to madness and you almost want to blame her for being so desirable. You cant quite place your finger on what the smell is, actually. You know it's not her, ahem, menstrual cycle because you've marked it dutifully on your calendar for as long as you can remember. No, she's past that by almost a week now. It's a headier scent, musky and a little bit heavy, but the way it lingers around her waist and her groin makes you think it has something to do with arousal. Perhaps the bodies of human females changed slightly after their monthly cycles? Certainly a theory that warranted further study. But for now, more pressing matters. 

"Rose, I was wondering if..." You falter. There is a note of amusement in her eyes now, mixed with a shade of something else. You clear your throat and cross your arms over your chest, fully aware that you are exhibiting all the classic signs of nervousness and anxiety, though you couldn't be damned right now with social niceties. You try again from another line of attack. "...as you know, it's been quite some time since I..." 

Well. This was shaping up to be far more difficult than you imagined. Which is saying quite a bit, since every neurotic and obsessive part of you had constructed this situation to be considerably difficult and near-impossible to begin with. Suddenly, Rose leans forward from her chair and you are alarmed by the intensity in her eyes when she looks straight at you. This lasts for a few moments, and you wonder stupidly if you had actually managed to wrangle out your request and embarrassed yourself so deeply that you immediately forgot it. You decide that's not possible though (as lovely as it would be) and when she puts her book aside and moves towards you, you think maybe Rose pieced together enough of the stupid, clumsy hints to see the bigger picture.

Up this close, the smell of her wraps around you. It's exquisite. Your eyelids flutter shut out of their own accord and she meets you for a kiss. While every part of you screams for more, you slam down the urge and force yourself to behave, coaxing her mouth open with a gentle sweep of your tongue on her lower lip. It works, like it always has, and she sighs happily into your mouth as your arms wrap comfortably around her waist. Like this, you can almost forget your burning need to tear into her. Holding her, kissing her, all of the sensory reactions you're experiencing almost allow you to forget just how good it would feel to slam her up against the wooden desk, to bite down savagely upon her neck, to rip the flesh of her soft skin with your perfectly shaped teeth, to feel that gush of warm, hot, red, pulsing blood against your mouth and to feel her soft legs wrapping around your body as you lap hungrily at her, never quite sated, never quite satisfied--

\--okay, so maybe it's not quite enough to forget. You tear yourself away to catch your breath, and by now, Rose is definitely onto the fact that you are not completely yourself. Having her this close to you helps you think though, maybe not lucidly, but it helps your body take over your brain for just enough time to convey how badly you need this. 

"Rose. I need to feed." A long pause. You look intently at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, determined not to see her face incase there may be an unsavory expression resting upon it. You swallow thickly. "May I?" 

You jerkily lift your head to watch her response but the moment you move, she holds your face in her hands and kisses you soundly. She nips at your lips and then deepens the kiss, one hand leaving your cheek only to grip tightly at your shoulder. When she parts, there is a wet sound, and she looks at you so seriously you almost wonder if she's angry. 

"Of course you can. I'm only disappointed it took you so long to ask." 

And that's all the consent you needed. That's all the permission you've been dying to hear. You can barely contain the tidal wave of emotion that smashes into you then, so you don't bother trying. What you do instead is equally alarming though, and perhaps the both of you had underestimated just how badly you needed this, just how much you had been aching. 

When you slam into her, it is with little fanfare, and she squeaks inelegantly when she finds herself pressed back into the wooden desk. You tug at her robe with little to no regard of how crazy you appear, and when she tries to assist you, you almost snarl and push her hands away. 

Mine. All mine. 

A very small voice in your head is telling you to stop, to slow down, a very big part of you is completely frightened by how incapacitating this feeling is but there is no time to organize all these small details. There is barely enough time as it is. Rose's eyes are wide, obviously surprised by your sudden forcefulness, but as crazy as you feel, you try your best to calm down enough to lean in and pepper her face with kisses. They are warm, and chaste, nothing at all like what you are feeling, but they do their job in reassuring her that you have not yet completely surrendered to madness. You take this moment to lean her back more fully into the desk so that she is splayed before you, and finally, her robe is loose enough to reveal the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. 

Lovely. So lovely. 

With your fingers resting on her chest, you can feel the way her heart thrums beneath her skin. It's fast right now for the average human, and you cant help but wonder if it will make her taste different. You are keen to find out. 

You lean into her neck and inhale deeply, your breath warm on the white of her flesh and even from here you can see the way small goosebumps rise all over her body. She twitches beneath you, from nervousness or excitement, you cant tell. Though the increase in the the smell you've been noticing suggests the latter. You finally give in and lick slowly. Just a small patch of skin. It's salty and soft, pliant under the muscle of your tongue, and you feel Rose make a soft noise above you. You are still leaning over her, and resourceful as you are, you find it a wonderfully easy position in which you can slide your hand between her legs. She spreads for you easily, and you are so pleased to find that past the cotton of her undergarments, she is wet.

You moan into her neck, now slick with your saliva, because no matter how many times you feel Rose wetting your fingers like this, it will absolutely never get old. It will never fail to send your heart beating at impossible speeds and it will never stop being as exhilarating as it was the first time you were together like this. 

You lick your lips again and tongue her hungrily, marking the spot you feel her pulse the strongest. You are stalling, you know it, and it's partly because you are scared that after you start, you wont be in a right mind to ever stop. You don't know how you could forgive yourself if you actually hurt Rose, and while the detail of her being immortal saves you from that at least somewhat, the principle of the matter cuts you a little more deeply. You crook a finger into her then, as if buying yourself some time, and she arches into you instinctively. You feel her heartbeat with your entire body this time, and her proximity to you makes her scent all the more intoxicating. 

She's so delicious, so ready, and you, you are absolutely mad to have waited this long when look, look how much she wants you, look how much she's waited for you too-- 

\--you bite down. It's not as hard as you'd like, but you pierce skin, and when she makes a noise of pain, you pause and make small circles with the finger that's deep inside of her in the very pattern you know drives her crazy. It works. She settles down around you, breath growing shallow, and you are so grateful you could cry because the moment you felt the small trickle of blood fall onto your lips, it literally took every ounce of willpower to not suck her dry. You bite a little harder. You cant help it, this trickle is not enough, and as if to apologize, you swiftly (yet carefully) slide another finger inside and you feel her jaw slacken. Her breath picks up again, and she grabs fistfuls of the hair around your neck and unthinkingly shoves your face deeper into her skin. You happily oblige, and as you had hoped, the stream of blood is a little more constant. 

Still. Not enough. 

You growl quietly against her skin, lapping up as much of that delicious copper taste because you really didn't expect this texture, the fine, delicate way her blood hangs around your mouth and nose as metallic and paper-thin. She senses your impatience and wraps her fingers tightly around the base of your horns. She exhales shakily and licks at the soft skin of your ear before speaking. 

"I can take more than this, Kanaya. Don't be afraid." One hand slides down to stroke the back of your neck in a comforting manner. And here, her snarkiness sneaks back in, that slow drip of sarcasm that you had so quickly hated and loved when you first encountered her. "...after all, you must be _starving."_

You barely recognize yourself after that. 

You think you snarled. You recall vaguely, the feeling of hoisting her legs up, of gripping her thighs with your sharpened nails and relishing the way they left angry welts on her unblemished flesh. You remember the sweat on her brow when you fucked her thoroughly with two--no, three fingers sawing in and out of her with remarkable ease and speed as you busied yourself with your face in her neck. A thumb on her clit. Your free hand bruising that beautiful elevated bone by her hip.

But most of all you remember how amazing she tasted. How totally and completely she encapsulated all your senses. That wonderful feeling of being absolutely drowned by how liberating it felt to feed, how gratifying it was to have this hot, warm, perfect body under yours and to know it belonged to no one else. 

No literature in the world could compare to how powerful it was, though you still admire the writers for trying. 

When she comes, you stop sucking at her neck, finally content for the time being and determined not to take too much from her. Besides, it was always a joy to see how Rose rode out her orgasms, so refreshing to see her surrender her self-control for one fleeting moment of pleasure. And stretched before you like this with her panties at her ankles, she looks all the more beautiful, if not, just a little more exhausted and paler than usual. 

You dress her quietly and kiss her on the forehead, immensely grateful for having such an accommodating and understanding partner. She's exhausted, you can tell, but she has enough energy to crack a cat-like smile at you. As if somehow this was all according to her plan. And you smile back anyways, wondering if maybe it was. 

After that, she allows you to feed regularly once a week. You worry that even that is too frequent but she insists, and after a careful month of trial and observation, you are happy to determine that while she's exhausted for the day after feeding, she bounces back with little trouble. You like to think you return her generosity in your own way though, and you are more than happy to discover the many different configurations your hands and fingers can adopt when between her legs. All in all, it's a perfect compromise between the two of you.

Needless to say, the stomach pangs don't bother you again for a long, long time.


End file.
